


Barracuda

by riot3672



Series: Danbeau [1]
Category: Captain Marvel (2019), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Carol x Maria, Dry Sex, F/F, Fluff and Humor, Fluff and Smut, Pool Table Sex, Pre-Canon, Semi-Public Sex, Sexual Content, Vaginal Fingering, contains minor spoilers for Captain Marvel
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-11
Updated: 2019-03-11
Packaged: 2019-11-15 06:45:43
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,380
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18068555
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/riot3672/pseuds/riot3672
Summary: It's yet another night at Panchos -- Carol's buzzed and nearly destroying the one pinball machine after a sexist comment, and Maria's waiting for a window to intervene. But when the not-so-helpful bartender has to step out, Maria's plan to make Carol feel better may be more physical than she'd intended.





	Barracuda

_You know why it’s called a “cockpit,” right?_

Carol’s fingertips tightened around the Pancho’s pinball machine, knuckles going white. Senses singular, focused as that silver ball rocketed from obstacle to obstacle. Ding-Ding-Ding. Like the ball was moving almost too slow, too much drawn out space without that ball dropping to her knockers only to be launched back for another beating. 

“I’m not gonna have to cut you off, am I, Danvers?”Patrick asked as he wiped down the counter.

The ball fell into a trap, just enough time for her to push a hair out of her face. It occurred to her for a moment that she didn’t know if Patrick was referring to cutting her off from the pinball machine or drinks. She’d been burning through quarters and whiskey at a fairly matched rate since Thompson’s comment. It seemed like specific details she should be aware of.

“Please don’t,” Maria said as she stretched out in the booth nearest the machine, watching Carol shake and click. “If it’s not this machine, it’s gonna be Thompson’s balls.”

The ball fell between her knockers. Carol slammed her hand against the machine. Just hard enough to shake the machine but not hurt her hand. No. She had control.

“You two know how much pinball machines cost?” Patrick commented, the slightest lace of concern slipping into his blasé tone.

Carol patted the machine. “This one’s a little rusty, anyway. I could pick you out a really great The Who one.” Her latest yet-to-be-conquest sat near her boot on the floor, still a few licks from empty. “ _She’s a pinball wizard, there’s got to be a twist. A pinball wizard, s’got such a supple wriiiist.”_ She picked up the whiskey glass and toasted an invisible stranger. Downed the rest.

“Those aren’t the lyrics,” Patrick replied.

Carol knocked her last ball into play. Laser focus. But God, it was moving so _slowly_. One knock, into play. Still in play. She tightened her grip on the machine. Clicked the knockers furiously. Even when the ball wasn’t around. Her score hovered below 6k. Not even good. _Cockpit._ Cock-pit, like he thought that was the cleverest fucking thing in the world. Like he had some magic cock. _Cock, cock, cock,_ who even needed _fucking cock?_

The ball launched into the gutter. The machine chimed with the GAME OVER. 

Carol grabbed the sides of the machine, heart knotted into a fist in her chest, tugging her ribs with it. Hot. She was so fucking hot, brain pulsing, and the men. Everywhere. Thompson and his cockpit. Patrick and his pinball machine prices. The stupid picture of the space explorer smirking back at her on the machine itself. 

Wound up to punch.

Landed about as good as launching her fist into a concrete wall. There was that pain.

“Fuck!” Carol screeched as she pulled her hand back from the unharmed machine, stumbling a few steps back.

Maria’s hands were around her shoulders before she could even process being away from the machine. 

“You might’ve been able to take it a drink and a half ago,” Maria said.

Maria led Carol back to their booth. 

"Did she seriously break it?" Patrick said. “For the love of God, Rambeau, control her.” 

His tone was light, but it only sent another pulse of anger through Carol. One look with Maria, though, and she saw her own pissed-ness reflected back. Carol sunk deeper into the vinyl, feet apart and hunched as she sipped the water she’d been ignoring.

And as if the universe simply _understood_ Carol, there was a crash from the back of the bar. The laughter of teenagers. Patrick, Carol, and Maria made eye contact. Carol couldn’t help but smirk.

“After you control the delinquents? It sounds like they’re stealing again,” Maria replied.

Patrick said nothing, simply scampered out the back door. Once that door clicked shut, Carol pushed herself to her feet. Sauntered over to the jukebox.

“Any requests, Rambeau?” Carol asked.

“Were you faking that the whole time?”

“Nope.” Carol flipped through the songs. “That’s just really good water.”

At least, the air felt a little more breathable when it was just her and Maria. She selected “Barracuda.” A few steps, then shit, that pool table. She climbed up, lying on her back, miming a little dance as she sang the lyrics.

“He’s not gonna be gone for that long.”

“ _You’d have me down, down, down to my knees_ ,” Carol sang, locking with Maria. Just the lick of a smirk on Carol’s lips. It was what always worked.

Maria approached, giving her own little saunter. Carol’s heart fluttered, tightened, as impatient as she was.

Maria climbed up. Crawled on top of her. Both her hands to Carol’s cheeks, kissing her like every second was decadent, complex, a challenge to interpret. And God, did Carol’s brain swim in it. She snaked her arms around Maria’s back, rubbing circles around Maria’s muscle. Oh, the knot inside her pulsed, just waiting with shaking fingers to pull Maria as far into her as she could, but even a little drunk, she knew her own skills. Patience. Listening. Passion.

Cockpit. Worship cock like it meant _shit_. 

“Patrick will be back,” Maria whispered in the shell of Carol’s ear, one hand in her hair and the other snaking under her shirt.

_Down, down, down on my knees._

“Cock kinda sounds like something you’d bludgeon someone with, doesn’t it,” Carol replied.

Maria giggled, the air sending a shock down Carol’s smile. “I just think of shuttlecock.”

“Or a rooster. Not the most attractive image, is it?”

“Not really.”

Maria unhooked Carol’s bra, running her fingers over the goose bumped skin. Carol’s breath caught in her throat. For a moment—just a moment—she thought about being quiet.

Then, y’know, Maria’s mouth when to Carol’s breasts. Too late for modesty. As if it were ever useful to begin with.

Carol’s lips returned to Maria’s, tongue along her bottom lip, slowly pulling her lip into her mouth. Maria’s own soft moan buzzed down Carol’s throat. 

“I don’t need a cock to fly,” Carol muttered as she slid her fingers down the waistband of Maria’s pants.

Maria stiffened as Carol’s hand slid. “God, babe, you don’t need a cock for _anything_.”

And it was just enough. Maybe Carol’s head was a little cloudy. Maybe the soft felt of the pool table wasn’t actually that comfortable, maybe Patrick still hadn’t come back, maybe she loved Maria Rambeau so much and nothing else had to make sense. She pulled her hand out, a little slick, and grabbed onto Maria. Two hands, no white knuckles. Flipped them over. 

“You know,” Carol said as she grinded her hips against Maria’s. “That water _was_ pretty magical and all, but not the best thing here.”

Maria could barely keep her eyes open enough to watch Carol’s bit. “Mmm?”

Carol dug her hips in harder. Enough to start her own dousing of pleasure. Like riding waves in trips to Santa Monica. “You always give me my favorite stuff.”

Maria looked up. Just long enough. A flash of Carol’s smirk before sticking her slick index finger into her mouth. Index, middle, and ring, each with a little _pop_. Maria’s sweet taste, a familiar comfort and excitement, but God, Carol never tired of seeing Maria’s face looking up at her through those lust-filmed brown eyes.

Maria’s hands dropped onto Carol’s hips, pressing Carol harder into her. Enough to drag a moan out from between Carol’s lips. Carol’s hands to Maria’s back. Intertwined legs. _Harder_ , further, faster, baby. Faster, faster, until—

Carol gave a squeak, shaky and full as her muscles pulsed up through her torso. Held onto her now stance, pushing against the noodling until Maria sang her own little song into Carol’s ear.

And for a moment, as Carol slid off Maria, there was nothing. Just the thrum of their heartbeats, the puffing of breath, the clicking of the jukebox as it picked a new song. Carol had no idea how many songs had played after “Barracuda.” 

She took Maria’s hand. 

And Patrick came back in. “Jesus, you two trying to stargaze?”

Carol shrugged. “I could probably put a decent hole in your ceiling for cheap.”

Maria squeezed her hand, and it was all that needed to be said.

**Author's Note:**

> Well I guess I'm writing fanfiction again. Hope everyone enjoyed!


End file.
